


standing in the eye of the storm

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captivity, F/M, Gen, Non-Consensual Touching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Whump, cattle prods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You deserve this.It repeats in Derek’s head on a loop, over and over and over until his throat feels tight and his eyes are burning.  He’s tried it nearly a hundred times with no success, but he can’t help it – he pulls at the chains over his head yet again, growling low in his throat when they don’t budge.  He has no idea what Kate has in mind for him, but he has a feeling he doesn’t want to find out.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Scott McCall, Kate Argent/Derek Hale
Kudos: 4
Collections: Anonymous





	standing in the eye of the storm

**Author's Note:**

> an au version of kate taking derek captive and torturing him. it doesn't exactly fit in with s1 canon but this is fanfic so who cares
> 
> i don't own teen wolf
> 
> heed the warnings on the tin

_You deserve this._

It repeats in Derek’s head on a loop, over and over and over until his throat feels tight and his eyes are burning. He’s tried it nearly a hundred times with no success, but he can’t help it – he pulls at the chains over his head yet again, growling low in his throat when they don’t budge. He has no idea what Kate has in mind for him, but he has a feeling he doesn’t want to find out.

He hasn’t seen her since she tied him up, probing him over and over with the cattle prod until he shifted helplessly, fangs dropping through no doing of his own. That was nearly two hours ago and Derek’s entire body is taut with anticipation.

The waiting is the worst part. And he thinks Kate probably knows that.

She must because she leaves him alone all night. His shoulders are aching from where they’re yanked over his head, holding him in place with his feet dangling off the floor. It’s barely three inches – just enough to drive him mad and have him stretching futilely, trying everything to rest his toes on the concrete. It doesn’t work and he _knew_ it wouldn’t work, but he still finds himself howling in frustration when every attempt fails. His body hurts so much.

He’d been trying to ignore the growing pressure in his bladder, but somewhere around hour eight he can’t hold it anymore and he whimpers embarrassingly as his lap floods with wet heat. The back of his neck goes hot with shame and he shuts his eyes tight, trying to block out the sound of urine dripping from his pant leg onto the basement floor. He feels so degraded he cries like a baby, carefully biting his lips against the high-pitched noises that want to escape his mouth as tears roll down his cheeks. He’s never felt so small in his life.

But then the basement echoes with footsteps and he hurriedly turns his head to wipe his tears away against his poor burning shoulders and schools his face into an indifferent scowl. She can kill his family and break his heart and torture his body, but one thing she can’t do is make him weak.

She _won’t_ make him weak.

The second she slides the heavy door open, Kate breaks into a smile. “Oh, sweetheart!” she cries, the pet name making Derek’s stomach turn in disgust. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to go? I would’ve put some newspapers down.”

Derek can’t help the blush that spreads all the way down to his bare chest, but he _can_ help his mouth so he stays silent, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

“Wet jeans are the worst, aren’t they?” she asks, face full of fake compassion that makes Derek want to rip her throat out. He hates this tactic, this little game where she pretends to be on his side until the last minute when she inevitably puts a bullet in his chest. Or burns his house to the ground. “Let me help you get comfortable, honey.”

With that she grabs a pair of heavy duty scissors from her box of tricks and holds them out in front of her like a dagger as she approaches. He swallows hard, thankful not for the first time that the only one in the room with enhanced hearing is him. He may be able to hide his fear from a human, but it’d never work on a supernatural.

But Kate, psycho bitch that she is, is very much human and it’s disconcerting to hear the steadiness of her heartbeat as she gets within biting range. She’s completely in control, mouth pulled into a smug smirk and body unflinching as he rears forward to roar in her face.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” she tells him and then she’s taking the scissors to the denim of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” Derek demands, muscles jumping as he tries in vain to pull away from her. “Don’t touch me!”

“I said I was going to help you get comfortable, didn’t I?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just snips at his pant leg until she’s made it all the way up to his hip, exposing his bare leg to the chilliness of the basement. Then she starts in on the other one. “And I _always_ keep my promises, sweetie. You know that about me!”

“Yeah, when they’re promises that benefit _you_!” Derek nearly screams, panic rising in his belly as she finishes the second pant leg and then unbuckles his belt with expert fingers. His wet jeans fall to the floor in frayed tatters when she yanks his belt from the loops in one fluid motion. He starts shaking all over, terrified. “Promises to _hurt people_!”

“Not _people_ ,” she says with a shrug, face completely remorseless. “Werewolves.”

Then, without another word, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of Derek’s underwear and tugs them down around his knees.

“ _Wow_ ,” she exclaims, eyes exactly where Derek doesn’t want them. “Look who’s a big boy now! Grown up quite a bit since you were sixteen, haven’t you?”

“Go to _hell_ ,” Derek hisses, entire body on fire with humiliation as he wriggles in his chains, begging, pleading, _praying_ to anyone that will listen that he can get just one fucking limb loose to fight back with. Just _one_ and he’ll be able to stop this – whatever it is – before it can really start.

But no one’s listening – not that Derek expected them to be – and he’s soon yowling in distress as Kate sprays his naked body with ice-cold water, cackling at his wince of pain when she aims the forceful jet of water in between his legs. “Don’t you wanna get cleaned up?” she asks mockingly, blue eyes full of delight. “Or would you rather stay covered in your own piss?”

She keeps it up for what feels like hours, gallons upon gallons of frigid water tearing at his body until his skin feels like numb pinpricks. Despite his best efforts to stay strong and in control, he finds himself whimpering in anguish and shying away from the stream of water because he just can’t _take_ it. It hurts and he’s miserable and he wants it to be _over_ already.

But, as it turns out, what comes after the water is even worse. What comes after the water is a hand around his dick, burning hot against his numb skin. His body seizes up, every muscle going on high alert, and a broken sound falls from between his lips. “Don’t,” he says and it sounds like a plea. Like he’s _begging_. It’s awful. “Please just— _don’t_.”

“Well, that’s a new one coming from you,” Kate whispers, the quietness of her voice creating a faux intimacy that makes Derek want to vomit. “Not the begging part, of course…I mean the _don’t_ part.”

Her hand starts to move up and down and despite Derek’s best efforts, his teeth clenched and his eyes shut, his body responds until he’s hard in her hand and his breath is coming in panting bursts. At that moment, with butterflies flapping their wings in his belly and sparks of pleasure snapping behind his eyelids, Derek’s never hated himself more.

_You deserve this_ , his mind whispers and Derek doesn’t argue. He deserves this and more.

So he lets his head hang in shame and does his penance, gritting his teeth against the embarrassing noises that want to tear out of his throat. Tears are flowing freely down his face, dripping off his chin to get lost among the water droplets clinging to his naked torso. When he comes it’s with a choked-off sob, semen splattering onto his belly and pubic hair.

This time Kate doesn’t clean him up. This time she steps back to admire her handiwork.

“See, wasn’t that fun, sweetheart?” she asks, batting her eyelashes, and Derek doesn’t have the energy to snarl at her. He just keeps his head down, defeated. “You pretend like you’re over it, but I _know_ you miss me.”

Her words are soft, like a caress from a lover, but her hands are merciless as she drives the cattle prod into Derek’s middle one last time before she stalks out of the room. Then he’s left alone again, naked, cold, and covered in his own come.

He cries until he can’t anymore.

He must drift off to sleep at some point because the next thing he knows, a gentle hand is patting at his face. Without opening his eyes, Derek growls in sheer fury and snaps at the hand, managing to clamp his teeth around a single finger. The reaction is loud, instantaneous, and undeniably _male_. Derek’s eyes fly open.

“Dude!” Scott cries, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest and backing away with wide eyes. “I’m trying to get you out!”

The anger and fear drain from Derek’s body so quickly it leaves him lightheaded. “Sorry,” he mumbles, trying not to think about the fact that he’s _naked_ in front of the high schooler he’s been trying to recruit into his pack for weeks. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Well, that someone else is taken care of,” Scott says, his voice dipping low and concerned. He very carefully, respectfully keeps his eyes on Derek’s face as he reaches around him to unlock the chains. “You don’t need to worry about her anymore, okay? She’s gone.”

When the shackles are all open, Derek falls to the ground in an aching heap. He’s about to whine something about being freezing when a piece of thick, warm fabric falls onto his bare back. It’s Scott’s sweatshirt. He pulls it over his head wordlessly, uncaring that it’s tight around his shoulders and leaves a good two inches of his wrists exposed. At that moment, it feels like warmth and home and _pack_. 

Luckily, Derek’s underwear are still intact and he quickly pulls them up his thighs, stomach churning when his eyes fall on the dried come matted into the wiry hair on his pelvis. “Oh god,” he whimpers, unable to help himself, the memories of Kate’s hand and mocking laughter enough to bring him to his knees.

Any hope Derek had that Scott hadn’t figured out what happened disappears when he puts a strong hand on Derek’s shoulder and whispers, “Peter killed her, Derek. Peter fucking killed her and I didn’t stop him.”

Then he plops onto the ground and wraps Derek in a hug.

Derek’s first instinct is to pull away, to snarl and growl and bite and kick, but he’s _exhausted_ and he finds himself sinking into Scott’s embrace instead. “Thank you,” he says, voice shaky. “For everything.”

“She’s not going to hurt you anymore,” Scott says fiercely and it sounds like _you’re welcome_.


End file.
